


Bus Boy

by vcg73



Series: Dad Kurt & Doc Adam AU [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 18:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcg73/pseuds/vcg73
Summary: This was written from a prompt: “I’m on the bus and my 2-year-old won’t stop crying, except you just smiled at them and they did.”





	Bus Boy

**Author's Note:**

> First in a series of slightly-future AU stories about Kurt as a single dad, and Adam as the young pediatrician he falls in love with.

Kurt had tried everything. Shushing, singing, funny voices, jogging his legs up and down, a favorite stuffed animal, even bribery in the form of a cookie. Nothing worked. His not-quite-two-year-old son continued to miserably wail, drawing looks of mixed sympathy and irritation from Kurt’s fellow bus riders.

Fighting the urge to join in the crying just to vent his frustrations, Kurt continued his vain attempt to quiet his child, shooting apologetic looks at the other passengers. He envied the few lucky souls who had jammed speaker-buds into their ears to escape the noise. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, shifting the boy over his shoulder to rub his heaving back. The day was hot and muggy, Austen had been sick all week, and his pediatrician’s office just happened to be all the way across town at the last stop on the bus route. “We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Abruptly, the little boy’s howls ceased. He was wriggling too much to believe he had fallen asleep, so Kurt - though greatly pleased - was puzzled by the sudden silence. He started to pull Austen back down to sit in his lap, only for the fussing to immediately start again. Hoping to head off another full blown shrieking fest, Kurt hastily lifted him back up. The boy responded by not only quieting, but actually letting go a little laugh.

Kurt ignored the surrounding sighs of relief, and one audibly muttered: “About fuckin’ time”, and turned his head slightly to the right in an attempt to see whatever miracle of distraction had finally quieted his child.

It took him a moment to realize that his son was staring at a man who was seated a few rows back on the opposite aisle. There was nothing extraordinary about him that Kurt could see. Handsome, maybe late 20’s, wearing a plain white button-down shirt and black jeans, with a few tufts of golden-blond hair peeking out from beneath a floppy gray beanie. Nothing special, except that he appeared to possess some magical gift for child-whispering.

As the boy continued to stare, Kurt saw the man flutter his fingertips in greeting. Kurt smiled when he made an exaggerated sad face and drew tear tracks down his cheeks, then flattened his hand and raised it slowly up his face from chin to forehead, transforming his frown into a bright smile. Sure enough, Austen laughed in response.

The performance continued for the next several stops and as the bus grew emptier with departing passengers, the man’s antics grew bolder. He put his arms out and did a one-man wave, played energetic air-guitar and drums to some imaginary song, took off his beanie and put on an odd blobby little puppet show that had Kurt shaking his head in amusement, no longer even pretending not to be watching, while Austen clapped and cheered.

Finally a call of, “Last stop,” from the driver startled Kurt, who had been paying more attention to the entertainment than the path of the bus.

“Oh, gosh,” he said, standing up and plunking his son down on his vacated seat while he moved to gather up their somewhat scattered belongings from the floor and the empty seat next to him. Austen whimpered at losing sight of his new friend.

“May I help?”

Kurt looked up in surprise when the man suddenly appeared at his elbow, smiling that warm, crinkly-eyed smile at the little family. “Oh, um, no, thanks. I’ve got it.”

“Hello, little fellow,” the man said to Austen, who ducked his head, suddenly shy in the face of direct conversation. Kurt was surprised to hear a charming British accent to the words and for a moment he was not sure if it was genuine or just another form of entertainment for the child, but then the stranger went on in an apologetic tone, “I hope you didn’t mind my butting in and distracting your son. It looked like you could use a hand.”

“Oh, believe me, I didn’t mind at all. Thank you so much for that. He isn’t feeling well and the heat is making him a little extra cranky.”

Adam made an 'aww’ face and said, “Poor little lad.” He checked his watch and grimaced as the bus pulled in to its stop and the doors opened. “I’m afraid I need to run. I’ve an appointment in ten minutes and today’s my first day on a new job, so it wouldn’t do to be late.”

“No, of course not. Thank you again … um.”

"Adam,” he supplied with another bright smile.

“Kurt,” he offered, juggling his shoulder satchel, diaper bag and Austen’s stuffed hippo to offer a somewhat awkward handshake. “And this is Austen.”

“Charmed,” he replied. In spite of his apparent hurry, Adam helpfully assisted Kurt in sorting out his bags. “I’ll be taking this route often from here on out. Perhaps we’ll run into one another again.”

Kurt smiled. He doubted it, since there was little to draw him this way except for an occasional doctor visit, but he did not say so. “Maybe. Thanks again.”

With another small wave, Adam hurried down the bus steps and began jogging to get wherever he needed to go. Kurt looked after him for a moment before heaving a soft regretful sigh and moving to help his son down the steep bus steps.

~*~*~*~*~

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hummel. Someone was supposed to have contacted you,” the receptionist told him apologetically. “Doctor Greeley has taken a personal leave of absence for the next several weeks. Her patients are being transferred to other doctors in the meantime. We have you scheduled with our new pediatrician, Dr. Crawford.”

Kurt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Somehow he wasn’t even surprised. It had been that kind of week. Still, Austen needed to see a doctor, and Kurt was not about to take that long hot ride back home without seeing anyone. “Fine.”

She smiled, looking relieved that he did not intend to argue or make a scene, and passed him a clipboard containing the usual sheaf of paperwork. Kurt wondered why, in this heavily computerized society, there still never seemed to be an end to filling out forms.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he smiled tightly and carried his son over to a small sofa in the waiting area. After his long crying jag, Austen was exhausted and the quiet, air-conditioned office quickly put him to sleep with his head pillowed on his father’s thigh. Kurt absently stroked soft chestnut curls with one hand while jotting down the required information with the other.

Eventually, twenty minutes beyond the “five minutes or so” he had been assured of, a nurse called the Hummels into an examination room. Austen, woken prematurely from his nap, was cranky and uncooperative, fidgeting and whining as his height, weight, temperature and blood pressure were noted by the nurse, who asked a few questions, made a few notes on her chart and again assured Kurt that this new doctor would be along in “just a few minutes”.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Kurt said, draping an arm around his son and kissing him on the crown of his head once they were left alone to wait. “We’ll just let the nice doctor look you over, then he’ll give you something to get rid of that nasty ear-ache. Then we’ll go home and find something yummy for dinner.”

“Fiss-ticks,” he mumbled, leaning tiredly against his father’s side.

Kurt was not remotely a fan of breaded reconstituted fish bits. He made a face but agreed. “Okay, we’ll have fish sticks, but you have to eat some veggies with them.”

“Tato-tots,” the boy replied, smiling winningly at his reluctant dad.

He sighed. “I never should have let Auntie Mercedes introduce you to those things, or share her belief that they count as actual vegetables.”

Austen gave him a charming, dimpled smile and said, “Pleeeease?” He threw in an unconvincing little cough and added, “Sick.”

Kurt shook his head, but could not help laughing. It was strange how much his son looked like Quinn, his egg-donor, when he went into adorably wheedlesome mode.

“Sounds like he has you over a barrel,” came a voice from the doorway as the doctor entered the room. He paused at the sight of them, surprise reflected in his widened eyes, matching the look in Kurt’s. “Mr … Hummel, is it? Well, well, when I said I hoped I’d be seeing you again, I hadn’t counted on its being quite so soon!”

“You’re Doctor Crawford?” Kurt replied in shock.

Austen looked a little confused, clearly not sure whether this doctor, with his professional white coat and stethoscope, wearing a sky blue tie decorated with brightly colored balloons around his neck, was the same beanie-wearing friend he had made on the bus. He hid his face in Kurt’s shirt, peeking out to study Adam from behind its offered protection.

Adam smiled at the boy, giving him a wink as he pulled a tall stool over to them. “I am indeed,” he told Kurt. “Newest addition to the Morningside Medical Clinic, at your service.”

“So that means you had to hurry away from us to keep an appointment with … us,” Kurt said with a laugh. Then he frowned. “Wait, does that mean this is your first day on the job?”

“I rather wish I hadn’t mentioned that now,” Adam said, shrugging apologetically, “but yes. Not my first day as a doctor, obviously, but I only just finished my pediatric specialist residency with Doctor Greeley a few months ago. I’ve been working at Columbia University Medical Center, and this is my first day in private practice. I promise you that I am 100% board certified and fully qualified to treat your son.”

Kurt hesitated. The protective parent in him wanted to snatch Austen off the examination table and go home at once. But he remembered how well his son had responded to this man when he was just a stranger on the bus, and there were certainly enough impressive-looking documents framed upon the walls to support the young doctor’s claim. He considered Adam’s face for a moment, seeing only sincerity in his kind blue eyes. For some reason, he felt complete trust in this man. 

Slowly, Kurt nodded. “I guess somebody has to be the inaugural patient.”

Adam’s bright smile caused unexpected warmth to kindle in Kurt’s belly. “Excellent,” he declared. Focusing once again on the little boy who was now peeking around his father’s arm, he said, “Well, Austen, I understand that your ears have been bothering you. The nurse says you have no fever, and that’s a very good sign, but why don’t you let me take a look and see if I can’t get you feeling better?”

Like his father’s, Austen’s trust was quickly won by the doctor’s kind smile and friendly demeanor. “Okay,” he decided, scooting forward on the table and opening his mouth.

The doctor shared an amused look with Kurt and obligingly shone his small flashlight down the boy’s throat. “Thank you. I see a bit of redness but nothing inflamed. Does your throat hurt?”

“No.”

“He had a cold and little cough last week,” Kurt offered. “Sore throat, runny nose, but most of that seemed to have cleared up by Saturday. The ear aches started on Friday night. He hardly slept at all over the weekend. I made an appointment to get him in here as quickly as I could.”

Adam made an mm-hmmm sound in his throat, shining his light into first one ear and then the other. “The right side looks good, but we’ve got definite signs of infection on the left. Nothing to worry about. We’ll just prescribe a course of antibiotics to take care of the bacteria, and some ear drops to dry out the seepage. He should be back to his old self within a week. Do you know if he has any problems with Amoxicillin?”

“None,” Kurt said.

“Very good, then I will give you a prescription for seven days’ worth, to be taken twice a day without fail until gone. Will you be looking after him yourself, or perhaps trading off with his other parent?”

Kurt shook his head. “Single father,” he said. “His other dad moved to Atlantic City after the divorce, so no help there. I usually leave him with a day care service on the days that I work, but I didn’t want to risk it while he was sick. My best friend helped me out.”

The doctor nodded, making a note on his chart. “A wise precaution. Exposure to other children increases the likelihood of catching more colds, and thus creating more chances for infection. If you can arrange a private sitter for the first day or two until the antibiotic has a chance to start working, that would be ideal. Otherwise, I would say to just make certain that his minder keeps to a strict schedule and allows plenty of nap time. Have Austen sleep with his infected ear up if at all possible. I’ll contact you in a week or so to check on his progress.”

Accepting the prescription that Adam ripped off his pad, Kurt smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Doctor Crawford. You’ve been a real life-saver for me today.”

“All a part of the service,” he said, doffing an imaginary cap. “You can get that filled at any pharmacy, including our own. And for you, young sir, a reward for being such a good patient.”

The child leaned forward with great interest to see what the nice doctor might have for him.

Adam nodded to the brooch on Kurt’s vest and patted Austen’s stuffed friend on the head. “I notice that you and your father both seem quite fond of hippos, so I have a little something you might enjoy.”

Austen crowed with delight when, with a dramatic flourish of his hands, Adam produced two hippo-shaped lollipops as if from thin air, handing one to Austen and one to his amused father.

“Thank you,” Kurt said, trading suckers with his son when he noticed the longing look his orange hippo was getting compared with Austen’s purple one. “What do you say, son?”

“Fank ‘ou,” he said around the candy that had already been shoved into his mouth.

After Adam left, Kurt quickly got his son ready to go. As they left the office to head down to the on-site pharmacy, Kurt saw the doctor in the lobby area, conferring with the front desk receptionist. He hesitated, feeling strangely reluctant to leave. “Thank you again for your help on the bus,” he said.

Adam looked up, nodding to the receptionist as he walked over to chat. “Believe me, it was my pleasure. I’m something of a frustrated performer, so it was lovely to have such an attentive audience.”

“We both enjoyed it,” Kurt said honestly. “I feel like I should pay you back. Do you have any interest in musical theater?”

He looked surprised, but not displeased. “As a matter of fact, I do. I even headed up a show-choir back in my University days. We weren’t very good, but it was a wonderful activity to keep our brains from falling out due to too much study. Are you an actor?”

Kurt nodded, feeling strangely thrilled by the genuine interest he could see in this man’s eyes. “Yes. I’m the lead in a musical you probably never heard of, at a little off-Broadway theater. If you know when you’ll be free, I’d be happy to get you a ticket. Or, well, I guess you’d need two. One for you and one for your … partner?”

His all-too-obvious fishing brought a grin to Adam’s face. “That would be boyfriend, and at present that particular role in my life is uncast. I would love to see your show. You’ve now seen me in my professional capacity, it only seems fitting that I get to return the favor. Are you performing this coming Saturday?”

“I am,” he said, bouncing Austen in his arms to cover the desire to jump up and down with pleasure. “Should I send the ticket here?”

“Please do.” He started to say something else when the sound of a coughing child caught his ear. He glanced over his shoulder at a mother with a little girl who were checking in at reception. “Ah, duty calls, I’m afraid. I’ll see you next week. Perhaps I should give you my number, just in case.”

Kurt grinned. “A wise precaution.”

He gave the doctor his phone, into which he quickly input his digits. “There, we’re set. Have a lovely day, Kurt. Feel better, Austen. Enjoy those fish sticks.”

“An’ Tots!” he crowed, beaming at the reminder.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he said, but he could not keep from smiling as Austen waved cheerfully to the doctor until they were completely out of sight.

Austen normally insisted on walking like a “big boy” when they were out in public, but today he was tired and more than happy to wrap his arms and legs around his father’s body and let himself be carried. “Amam nice,” he mumbled, still contentedly slurping his sucker, which Kurt kept a sharp eye on to ensure that it did not fall from his lips and adhere itself to either of their shirts. 

For a moment, Kurt considered correcting him to the more proper ‘Doctor Crawford’, but something in his gut told him that they would soon be seeing enough of the cheerful blond physician to be on a permanent first-name basis, so instead he just hugged the child closer and said, “He is, isn’t he? Ready to go home?”

A murmur of agreement was all he got before the weary little boy fell asleep on his shoulder. Quickly, Kurt removed the sucker from his limp fingers and deposited the remains in a handy waste-basket. His own grape-flavored hippo, he considered throwing away as well, but with a fond smile he tucked the little candy into his shoulder bag instead. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are kind. Comments are treasured.


End file.
